Running Through Shepherd Park

Disclaimer -- All characters are 18 or older.

Intro -- Sara is a 44-year-old woman with a 21-year-old daughter, Hope. Sara starts jogging for exercise through a nearby park where she encounters a young group of 21-year-old black men. Things happen from there. This story has older woman/ younger man elements. It has interracial sex and racist stereotypes. It has some lesbian action and mother/ daughter incest. You've been forewarned. If any of this isn't your thing, just move on to the next story. All others, enjoy.

*****

Sara stood in her bra and panties, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She studied her 44-year-old body in dismay at the 30 pounds of extra weight she carried on her 5'4" frame. If she was being kind, she'd describe herself as buxom. If she was being honest, though, she'd describe herself as chubby.

She pinched the fat hanging over the waistband of her panties and cursed her puffy cheeks and the jiggle in her legs. I have to do something about this, she thought. At least her shoulder length auburn hair hadn't started turning grey yet, and her green eyes still looked sharp. The lines were starting to show on her face, but if she wore make up, she could still pass for a woman in her 30's. An out of shape woman in her 30's, anyway. There are limits to how much make-up can fix, and it can't fix an extra 30 pounds.

Half her wardrobe was pushed to the back of the closet because it no longer fit, while the other half was on the verge of no longer fitting. Sara had recently taken to wearing loose dresses since they felt more comfortable, but she decided, enough was enough, and resolved to get into better shape.

She changed out of her regular bra into a sports bra. If there was one positive to her weight gain, it was that her B cup breasts were now a C cup, although she'd gladly trade them back for her old figure. She got dressed into her exercise clothes - running shorts, tank top, socks, and shoes - and then she was ready to go.

Sara stepped out the front door of her upper middle-class neighborhood. SUV's and newer sedans were parked in every driveway. She started a slow jog, thinking how she had to pace herself. At the end of her neighborhood, she followed the path through a small grove of trees into Shepherd Park. Shepherd Park was a basic community park with a baseball field, some tennis courts, playgrounds, picnic shelters, and basketball courts. Winding through those amenities was a running trail. One loop on that running trail was about a half mile. She figured if she could do a few laps, that would be a good kick start to her exercise goals.

She ran past the playgrounds with kids playing and parents idly watching their phones. Sara ran past a family barbecuing at one of the picnic shelters. She already felt better about herself, noting how out of shape that family looked. At least she was exercising and trying to get into better shape, she mused. She passed by the empty tennis courts and then jogged up a small hill that led to the basketball courts.

Almost out of breath from the short ascent, she stopped at the top to catch her breath. She stood with her hands on her knees and in dismay at how easily winded she became. There were three young black men at the basketball courts. They seemed to stop their game and then started talking. Were they laughing at her, she wondered?

Behind the basketball courts was a subsidized housing complex. She didn't know much about it, but she knew neighbors who complained about the quality of people it put near her neighborhood, depressing their property values.

"Yo, you need some help or something?" one of them called out to her.

Sara shook her head, embarrassed. She realized she probably looked like she was staring at them. Her breath was recovered, and she resumed her jog past the basketball court. She decided one lap was probably enough for today as she neared the fork in the path that led back to her neighborhood. Within a few minutes, she was back home, resting her tired feet and sitting under a ceiling fan to cool off.

The next day, Sara was ready to go running again. This time she remembered to stretch beforehand. She figured she'd try to pace herself even slower, and hopefully she wouldn't have to stop halfway like last time. Her goal was to complete at least 2 laps in Shepherd park this time.

And everything went well till she hit the same short hill leading up to the basketball courts. Again, her endurance failed her, and she stopped to catch her breath. This time, there was only one young black man at the courts. She thought he looked like the one who called out to her yesterday.

"Yo, you need something? Something you want over here?"

Sara froze, unsure how to answer. Definitely the same guy as yesterday. Probably around 20 years old.

"I -- I'm sorry. I'm just out of shape," Sara muttered between breaths. "

The guy laughed. "Thought you was checking me out or something."

Sara was taken aback. "No, no, I wasn't, as you say, checking you out."

"It's alright if you were. You ain't got to be ashamed."

Sara couldn't believe what the young man was insinuating.

"I've got to go," she replied curtly, as she turned to start jogging again. She thought she heard his laughter trailing behind her.

That evening, Sara thought about her encounter with the young black man in the park. Had she somehow inadvertently sent him some signals?

The more she thought about it, though, the more her mind wandered to the man himself. He was much taller than her, probably about 6'1", but skinny. Maybe 150 pounds. The confident and brazen way he spoke to her made her nervous, although she wasn't sure what kind of nervous. She felt a fear, but she also felt a tinge of excitement.

God, I'm old enough to be his mom, Sara thought to herself. Actually, since he probably lived in the subsidized housing, there's decent odds I'm older than his mom, she reconsidered. Though she knew next to nothing about him, not even his name, she found herself replaying their interactions through her mind. Still later, she caught her hand rubbing her wet mound while thinking about him.

God, what am I doing, she scolded herself? She was a manager at a large building management corporation and had nothing in common with him. It just served to remind her how lonely she was. Her daughter, Hope, was 21 and out of the house now. Hope's father had been AWOL for over a decade, and she hadn't been in a serious relationship in over 5 years. She had given up on relationships, instead filling her time with church groups and tending to her yard.

The next day, she considered taking a different running path, but decided she wouldn't let him scare her off. She just needed to make it past that hill by the basketball courts without stopping and ignore him.

As she got to the hill, she was determined to power through it, but her will was greater than her strength, and she slowed again as she reached the top.

"See, what did I tell you? Every day that bitch is checking me out. She must like chocolate popsicles."

There stood her tormentor, along with the other two guys from the first day again.

With her hands on her knees and still catching her breath, she glared toward the courts.

"Don't flatter yourself," she called between breaths. They laughed at her in reply.

"You're feisty today. I like it," he shouted back. "I bet that lily-white pussy is a fine fuck."

Sara was shocked by his brazenness. And somewhat flattered by it, even though she knew she should be repulsed. It'd been a long time since anyone had appealed to her sexual side, and it awakened something inside her.

The three young men whooped it up at her expense.

"What's your digits?" the stranger shouted back.

She shot him a confused look. He pointed at her arm where her cell phone was secure in an arm band.

Reflexively, she recited her number, and then immediately regretted it. Within seconds, she felt her phone vibrate. The text came from an unknown number with a one-word message --

Jerome

Sara stared at her phone screen for a long moment before finally replying, "I have to go."

Jerome smiled smugly as he watched her jog off.

*****

Sara got back home after she finished her jog and jumped in the shower. As the water rolled down her naked body, she thought about her encounter with Jerome. He both scared and excited her, and she felt her nipples harden while thinking about him.

She toweled off after the shower and picked up her phone to find unread text messages. She saw they were from Jerome, and she clicked on the text string.

U no u want it

She downloaded the picture sent with the text and gasped as it filled her screen. It was a close-up of a man's crotch, presumably Jerome. He was wearing boxer briefs, but the underwear could barely contain the massive cock bulging underneath. His cock was practically poking out the top of his underwear, and the bulge appeared so thick, it was twice as fat as any cock she had ever been with.

Sara had always heard rumors about how well-endowed black men are. She always chalked it up as an urban legend, but Jerome was making her reconsider if there was some truth to those rumors.

Then Sara had second thoughts. This isn't him, she reasoned? He probably just sent some picture of a porn star he found on the internet.

She texted him back.

Ha ha. Nice try. Like I'm supposed to believe that's you.

She put her phone down to clean around her house, but a few minutes later, her phone buzzed again.

She nervously picked it up to check the response. It was another picture. This time it was clearly a mirror selfie with Jerome's face plainly recognizable, his six pack abs visible, and the same monster cock practically breaking through his underwear.

Sara was shaking, unsure how to respond. On one hand, she'd had other men try to send her dick picks in the past, and they always disgusted her. On the other hand, his cock dwarfed anything else she'd been previously sent. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't mesmerized at the sight of it. He was everything she wasn't. He was black; she was white. He was tall, she was short. He was skinny; she was overweight. He was young; she was old. He was brash; she was reserved. But it'd been years since anyone made her feel sexy, and he was definitely appealing to her sexual side, however crudely.

Another text buzzed.

Believe it. Cum and get it.

Then one more picture came thru.

This time, his underwear was pulled down, and his cock was fully exposed. It hung languidly, still semi flaccid, but massively thick and long. She stared at it, almost unable to fathom how large he was. His skinny frame just exaggerated how well-endowed Jerome was.

Then more texts came through.

I no u like wat u c

Tell me u dont want it.

Where ur pic

Sara froze, unsure how to respond. She knew she should just ignore his texts or block his number, yet, there was a force inside her that wanted to respond. Poor grammar aside, her heart was racing, and she craved his cock.

She finally decided to try to play coy.

What do you want with an old fat, white woman?

God, I can't believe I'm actually responding to him, Sara thought.

She got another response within seconds.

Ima make you my bitch and bust a nut inside ya

Sara couldn't believe his crude talk turned her on. He was treating her like a sexual object, and her own body was responding to the treatment.

Sara: You wish

Jerome: Go on ur run tomorrow. Don't wear no panties if u wanna get wit me.

That night Sara's mind was racing. She knew she should just avoid the park. She could just avoid jogging altogether. Or even if she did, she just had to wear underwear. She already did that. Yet, she was conflicted. Her heart was racing in addition to her mind, and her heart wanted to follow through on Jerome's dare.

All the next day at work, his dare was all that Sara could think about. By the time she came home and it was time for her afternoon jog, she finally had to choose.

As she changed out of her work clothes, she slipped off her panties before changing into running shorts. Then she decided her running shorts were too short. Her pussy might be on display, so she opted for a pair of bicycle shorts. I can't believe I'm doing this, she thought to herself.

The next thing she knew, Sara was jogging down her street and turning down the path into Shepherd Park. A few minutes later she was climbing up the short hill that led to the basketball courts. For once, she wasn't winded as she reached the top, but she stopped at the sight of Jerome waiting for her.

"See, I knew you'd come," Jerome declared.

Sara stood silently fidgeting in place.

Jerome walked up to her, and she grew nervous as he drew near, a lecherous smile on his face.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Jerome asked, as he reached a hand directly on her ass. Sara was glad there was no one in sight to see her being lewdly groped in public. She stood stone silent, biting her lip.

"No underwear, huh? Just like I told you," Jerome confirmed.

Sara was taking slow, deep breaths, simultaneously terrified and titillated by Jerome.

"Let's take you back to my place. Give you what you're looking for," he stated.

Everything in Sara's conscience told her to run, but she felt her body almost involuntarily moving to follow Jerome. She panicked in that moment.

"I'm sorry. I have to get home," and she took off sprinting down the path back to her neighborhood.

******

After she got back home, she saw a text message waiting for her.

Jerome: Ur missing out.

Sara: I'm sorry

Jerome: I've got other bitches. U the 1 missing out. Don't be wasting my time.

Sara: I won't waste your time.

Jerome: U gon be my bitch then.

Sara paused for a few minutes before responding.

Sara: I'll be your bitch.

Jerome: Gud. Building 831, Apt C. 5:30 tomorrow. Don't disappoint me.

Sara swallowed hard. She didn't respond, but she had made up her mind to go through with it.

******

Sara fretted over what to wear. She had just gotten home from work. What does one wear to a booty call, she wondered? Not like she had much clothing left that fit anymore. She had worn the one pair of work slacks that still fit her during the day. Maybe she should just wear a jogging outfit. She finally decided to keep on the work slacks and blouse, put her heels back on, and started walking

As she walked thru her neighborhood and then Shepherd park, she felt everyone's eyes judging her, as if they knew where she was going and what she intended to do when she got there. She passed one of her neighbors walking in the opposite direction. A friendly wave and then they were past each other. As she climbed up the hill to the basketball court, she wasn't sure what to expect, but the courts were empty. A minute later she was leaving Shepherd Park and entering the subsidized housing apartment complex.

Sara felt like she was entering another world, even though it was only a few minutes walk from her house. The parking lot needed repaving, and weeds were growing through the cracks. The brick of the apartment buildings was faded and worn. The cars parked in the lot looked far different from those in her well-maintained neighborhood. They were mostly older models, many of them banged up with large dents, scratches, or mismatched hoods and bumpers.

She suddenly felt out of place. Black and Hispanic people were sitting on their patios or looking out their windows, staring at the well-dressed white woman invading their neighborhood. In her blouse, slacks, and high heels, she cut a much different figure from the mothers in their mumus and everyone else in their ragged shorts and tee shirts.

Sara looked at the building numbers and traced her way to building 831. She looked at her phone; she was right on time. Apartment C was in sight on the first floor. It was gut check time. She stopped for a moment and then took a deep breath and powered forward.

The next thing she knew, her hand was knocking on the door. She noted how the door had God knows how many coats of paint on it. Probably to keep the finish looking decent, she decided. And then the door opened, and Jerome stood before her, flashing a smug grin.

"Come in, come in," he beckoned.

Sara stepped into the apartment. She noted it was relatively clean inside. She entered the living room and noticed the adjacent kitchen and dining spaces. Presumably, the bedrooms were behind the kitchen. There was a sliding glass door on the far wall looking out into a courtyard.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Jerome playfully teased.

Sara nervously stood still, unsure what to do. She felt his body hovering directly behind her. He smelled her hair, the scent of her perfume filling his senses.

"Why don't you strip naked?" he finally asked as he circled in front of her.

Sara looked away, feeling almost frozen in place.

"I thought you came here to be my bitch. What you waiting for?" he sternly asked.

The next thing Sara knew, her hands were unbuttoning her blouse and letting it fall to the floor, revealing her cream-colored bra.

"Keep going," he urged her.

She undid the snap and zipper on her slacks and let them fall to the floor as well. She stepped out of the legs, the fabric getting caught in her heels as she tried to step out. Soon she was left standing in nothing but her heels, bra, and panties.

"I said naked, bitch."

Her hands reached in back to unsnap her bra, revealing her C cup breasts. She instinctively lifted a hand across as the bra fell off, but Jerome reached over to lower her arm out of the way. He smiled at the sight of her C cup titties jiggling.

Taking a step forward, he reached his rough, calloused fingers inside her panties to her labia. With his other hand, he teased her nipples. Sara felt herself becoming wet almost instantly as he teased her pussy. Then he leaned down and took her left tit into his mouth while he continued to finger her below.

Sara moaned loudly in response as she felt his finger slip inside. Impulsively, she gyrated on his appendage, bouncing lightly on it. Then Jerome pulled his hand out of her panties and took a step back.

She looked at him with pleading eyes, her loins on fire and desperate for his touch, but he returned a cold smile.

"Why you come here?" he asked calmly.

Sara stood silent, unsure how to respond.

"I said, why you come here?" he repeated a little louder.

"I -- I don't know," she mumbled.

"Oh, I know why you came here. Now I just want to hear you say it."

"I came for you," Sara admitted.

"Oh, isn't that sweet. Pray tell, what is it you want from me?" he teased her.

"Sex," she finally admitted. "I want you to make love to me."

Jerome laughed. "Make love? I don't make love. I fuck my bitches. Bitch, you came here to get fucked, now say it."

Sara stood stunned for a second. Such explicit talk was not in her nature, but she was already this deep in the hole. "I came here to get fucked," she replied meekly.

Jerome squinted his eyes. "And why you need to get fucked?"

Sara's heart was racing. He was humiliating her, and she felt ashamed. But she also felt a tingle of excitement forming in her pussy.

"Because I like it," she replied.

"Almost, almost. It's because you a slut, ain't it?" Jerome asked her.

Sara slowly nodded her head in silence.

"I can't hear you," Jerome complained.

"I'm a slut," Sara conceded.

"And who's slut are you?" he asked.

"I'm your slut."

"Louder!"

"I'm your slut!" she practically screamed.

Jerome's face broken into a wide grin.

"Good, now take off them panties," he commanded.